


Welcome... To the Meth Star.

by ThreeHats



Category: Breaking Bad, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:17:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6335839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeHats/pseuds/ThreeHats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You want me to cook… on a plane?” He asked.  Rich kids.  “I can’t say it isn’t clever. But is it really that cost-effective?”<br/>Kaiba laughed, and it sounded like sandpaper.  Walter narrowed his eyes.<br/>“Oh no, Mr. White.  Don’t be ridiculous.”<br/>“You have a dragon-shaped airplane. What isn’t more ridiculous than that?”<br/>“First of all, it’s awesome. Secondly, it’s not an airplane,” Kaiba walked past, handing his suitcase off to the child beside him.  “I hope you packed your bags, Heisenburg.”</p><p>All characters, locations and scenarios were pulled out of a hat to create this story, which was written in 30 minutes or less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome... To the Meth Star.

All characters, locations and scenarios were pulled out of a hat to create this story, which was written in 30 minutes or less.

 **Characters:** Walter White, Seto Kaiba  
**Location:** Death Star  
**Scenario:** Zombie apocalypse

****

This was unacceptable.

Walter hid behind a control panel in a small security room, fighting to keep his breath even. He was the danger. He was not the one who ran and hid from anyone. Not from his wife. Not from Jesse. Not even from Gus.

But this wasn’t a situation he could solve by throwing meth at it, or by boasting about his ability to cook the blue shit.

These were goddamned zombies.

Perhaps it was best if he took a moment to figure out just how the fuck he got here in the first place. He had gotten a call on his burner phone from an unknown number; they were always unknown numbers. But this one would prove to be outside even his ability of comprehension.

A representative of a large corporation looking to expand its business ventures. KaibaCorp, the woman had said. They had found the safest way to cook that involved absolutely no risk of getting caught by the police.

Incredulous, Walter asked her what she meant.

The woman merely told him to pack his bags and gave him the address for a nearby private airport. Walter was not usually one to accept such vague offers, but after doing some research on the company, it seemed legitimate enough. And sure enough, a woman was waiting for him in the lobby of the airport when he arrived, eager to rush him off to their aircraft.

Walter paused at the gate, looking in disbelief at the machinery that sat before him. It was in a rather peculiar shape. It almost looked like a dragon. But that would be ridiculous—who would spend so much money on something like that?

“Hello, Mr. White,” a young, gruff voice greeted him from behind. Walter turned to find a man, no more than 21, standing behind him. Blue eyes poked out beneath a dense crop of brown bangs that swooped in organized chaos across his face. A young boy, also with blue eyes, but jet black hair, stood beside him. “I’m glad you could make it. Impressed?”

“Who exactly are you?”

“I have to say that I’m surprised you haven’t heard of me yet,” the young man scoffed, putting a self-important hand on his hip. “I’m the CEO of KaibaCorp, Seto Kaiba. My company until now has mainly focused on creating gaming enhancements in Asian countries. However, I’m tired of small fish. I heard of your product and wanted to offer you a job.”

“Why drag me all the way here for a job offer?” Walter asked, not exactly hiding his annoyance. Two could play at the arrogant, gravelly voiced-game.

“Because I knew that where you would be working would help you make the right decision to come cook for me.”

Walter glanced back at the plane, raising an eyebrow.

“You want me to cook… on a plane?” He asked. Rich kids. “I can’t say it isn’t clever. But is it really that cost-effective?”

Kaiba laughed, and it sounded like sandpaper. Walter narrowed his eyes.

“Oh no, Mr. White. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You have a dragon-shaped airplane. What isn’t more ridiculous than that?”

“First of all, it’s awesome. Secondly, it’s not an airplane,” Kaiba walked past, handing his suitcase off to the child beside him. “I hope you packed your bags, Heisenburg.”

 

* * *

 

Walter’s knuckles were as white as his last name as they pulled the spacecraft into the docking bay. His chest heaved with breath and his heart started inching down from his throat when he felt the… dragon… feet… touch down.

He was in space.

How the fuck was he in space?

“What the hell is this?” He demanded, not quite sure if his legs could manage to hold him upright if he stood.

“This…” Kaiba grinned, getting to his feet. “Is the Meth Star.”

“The what? You want me to cook here? In space?!”

“That’s right, White,” Kaiba started to deplane (de-spacecraft?), and Walter found it in himself to follow. “This is a top-of-the-line facility that’s outside any country’s laws or jurisdiction. It’s the Wild West. Only there’s no west, east, north, or south. Only miles of nothing, which makes us that much more difficult to find.”

“There’s no way that Earth can’t see us,” Walter argued, matching the CEO’s steps as they walked towards an unknown destination. Kaiba smirked, looking over at his soon-to-be-partner.

“What are they going to do about it?”

They arrived at a thick steel door, and Kaiba took a moment to punch something into a numpad that rested on the wall beside it. The door hissed and slid open, revealing behind it an impressive facility, with everything any cook could ever dream of using.

The help, however…

“Did you outsource your labor to outer space, too?” Walter growled, narrowing his eyes at the staggering, grey skinned humanoids that stumbled throughout the room, threatening to damage the beautiful equipment.

Kaiba’s eyes were wide, and for once, he didn’t look as though he was in perfect control.

“Something’s wrong,” he whispered. “I picked these people personally. Something’s happened to them.”

A figure appeared from behind the door, gasping as it reached out for them with ripped, bloody nails. A red, viscous liquid poured from its mouth. It didn’t take long to realize it was blood, as a quick examination revealed a large, gaping hole in its trachea.

“Jesus Christ!” White roared. He yanked Kaiba back by his ridiculous white collar with enough time for the CEO to miss being gouged by the… whatever it was. “Run!”

And they did, barreling down the hallway with the walking dead hot on their tails. Walter ducked into a security room, somehow figuring out how to lock the door behind them.

“They must have done something with our test product,” Kaiba wheezed. “They were working on a new recipe—“

“And you wanted me to perfect that shit? Why mess with what I’ve already done?”

Blue eyes met his, and he said coldly, “There’s always room for improvement.”

Rolling his eyes violently, Walter looked around the room, desperately looking for a weapon, something to fight back against their attackers. His eyes landed on a gun.

“That’ll do.”

He snatched it up, going back to the door, and Kaiba darted in front of him to cease his approach.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” the CEO cried, and Walter shoved him to the side. Kaiba fell to the ground, and the cook smiled smugly to himself. He looked good on the floor, with the rest of the dirt.

“Fixing your goddamn mess.”

The door hissed open, and Walter held his gun up, squeezing at the trigger.

“Say my name.”


End file.
